


Haven Home

by nutmeg223



Series: Grimm Behavior [2]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Caretaking, F/M, M/M, Multi, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:57:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6228382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeg223/pseuds/nutmeg223
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick discovers why taking a whole lot of cough suppressant on top of bronchitis is a really bad idea. </p><p>Also, an excuse to write tooth-rotting fluff and mother-henning Monroe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nick stifled yet another racking cough that the roughly gallon of cough suppressant manifestly did NOT help before creeping into Haven Café. He stopped at the front counter, shoulders hunched against the ever-present chill, and stared in confusion at the menu board. He couldn't seem to understand what he looked at, despite a lack of confusing sizes and pseudo-Italian names. Breathing and staying upright took all his concentration, anyway.

"How can I - merciful heavens!"

The young woman behind the counter vaulted it to get to his side. Nick blinked muzzily at her as she slipped an arm around his waist and quick-stepped him toward the back of the café. Vaguely, Nick wondered if he should worry that an unknown was taking him back into an office, but it looked a lot like the Spice Shop, so he decided that worrying would only take up too much energy. In any case, 'kidnapped by a small bossy British woman' would probably work as an excuse for being back from lunch late. In short order, he found himself divested of outerwear, wrapped in a blanket, and parked on the sofa next to a crackling fire. He leaned on the arm of the sofa and blinked, giving into the urge to cough.

The woman went back to the doorway and leaned out into the hall.

"Cado!" she called. "Take the front!"

And didn't miss a beat, grabbing a box of tissues and the garbage can, holding a wad of tissue to his mouth as he coughed something up. He tried to breathe through the burning in his chest as she mopped up his face. She put the tissues next to him and parked the garbage can in front of him before she pushed the coffee table back a bit and sat on it.

"Can you tell me your name, love?" she asked gently. He reminded her of someone...Cado, maybe, with that coloring...and the instinct to mother took over.

Nick stared at her, trying to figure out how to get his mouth to work.

"Detective Burkhardt...Nick. M'Nick," he croaked, voice wrecked from coughing.

"Good, Nick. Good. Keep looking at me, please. At me..." she finally put a couple of fingers under his chin and lifted, patting his cheek. "Gracious, you're burning up. Who can I call for you, Nick?"

"Who're you?" Nick focused, with difficulty.

"I'm Harry, Nick. Who can I call? Can I send someone for Rosalee? I've seen you down at her shop before, right?"

"No!" Nick's assertion brought on another round of coughing and ick and tissues and face-mopping. "She'll tell Monroe! He'll be disappointed!"

"Okay, okay, love. I won't send for Rosalee. It's alright. You need to tell me who to call, though, or I'm going to have to call 911." Harry brushed his hair off his face, frowning at the heat there.

"Not 911!" Nick protested.

"Okay, no 911, either. I promise. Can I have your phone, love?"

Nick handed it over, and Harry started thumbing through the contacts. Another woman poked her head into the office.

"Angharad, Cado is having six fits. You know there's a reason we don't...who's this?"

"Rex, this is Detective Burkhardt. I think he has pneumonia. Can you call his doctor and get an appointment for him and then call...Nick, lovey, you need to tell me who to call." Harry insisted.

"Captain? Call my Captain?" Nick swallowed painfully.

"Okay, doctor then Captain, Rex." Harry directed. "Get him an appointment ASAP, and then get someone down here to get him there."

Nick watched vaguely as the woman Harry called Rex hopped to with the phone, as Harry filled a kettle and put it on the single gas burner behind her desk. She went over to an old card catalog and started rooting through drawers, removing little packs of herbs. She pulled a muslin bag out of another drawer, and spooned a mix of herbs into it. She sniffed it, added something else, and sniffed again. Once she had a mix she approved of, she settled the bag in a large mug and turned to the first aid box. She hunted through it, finally coming up with a thermometer. Nick gave her a wary look and pressed his lips together.

Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Nick thought he heard her mutter something about the stubbornness of men and her luck.

"Nick, we need to see how high that fever is." She shook down the mercury. "Please? I won't force you, but I'm very worried about you."

Nick opened his mouth and accepted the thermometer. He figured he could hazard a glare as payback for the emotional blackmail as she went back to pour steaming water over the bag of herbs. She brought it back to the sofa, and wrapped Nick's hands around it.

"Hold onto that for a minute. You can drink once we get a reading." She rested the inside of one wrist against Nick's forehead, and her other palm against the back of his neck. "How much cough syrup have you taken?"

Nick startled at the question, nearly spilling tea all over himself.

"Never mind," Harry sighed, taking the thermometer out of his mouth. She winced at the reading on it. "Get that tea down, love."

Nick sipped at the spicy, slightly sweet tisane as Harry went back to her desk to scribble something down.

"Captain'll be here in fifteen, appointment is in an hour." Rex reported, coming back into the office and handing Nick his phone.

Nick stared at his phone, drinking tea. He apparently just had to let these people organize his life for him for the next few minutes, but thinking was hard, so that was okay. It reminded him a little of Monroe and Juliette at home, anyway. The tea helped the aching head and chest and the rolling nausea, though, so he just sipped at it. No one seemed to need him to talk to, so that was good, and time moved like cold molasses. Or he was moving through cold molasses. It was hard to figure out. Thankfully, Harry simply worked quietly at her desk, and Rex perched on the edge of it to talk to her. The pervasive calm and quiet felt just like home.

He wasn't sure how long he sat and soaked up the comfort of the room and the tea before a nervous-looking young man poked his head into the office.

"Umm, there's a very large and unhappy man asking where we've stashed his detective? Someone I would rather not spend more time near?"

"Send him back, please, Cado." Harry smiled fondly at him.

"If he eats me for breakfast, you only have yourselves to blame." Cado flounced off.

In a few moments, they heard a heavier tread in the hall before Renard filled the doorway. Nick mustered the energy for a muzzy smile.

"Hi Captain."

"Detective," Renard greeted him, giving him the long stare that always made him squirm.

"Thank you, Captain..." Harry stood and faced the captain. "Son of a bitch."

"We call 'im Renard," Nick put in. "But the guys in the evidence lockup call 'im..." he trailed off at the expressions on everyone's faces. Right, more serious, less funny.

Renard goggled for a minute, but managed to regain his composure.

"Victoire?"

At the name, Rex pushed to her feet, standing between the captain and Harry. Nick wondered what the _hell_ was going on as he snuggled further into the blanket and drank more tea. It was shaping up to be better than daytime TV, as long as there were no guns or other forms of violence. On the whole, he figured violence was probably not on the cards, considering the rules for behavior posted in the café. If they didn't allow excessive swearing, then he figured there would be Views about violence, too.

He watched as Rex leaned back a little bit and hit a button on the old-fashioned intercom parked on Harry's desk.

"Ddrai, you're needed in here." She kept her voice level.

"I haven't been -" Harry began.

" _Not_ one word." Rex snapped, putting an arm out to block Harry from moving forward.

Make that better than daytime BBC America. Nick watched Renard ease into the room, attempting to look non-threatening, and failing miserably. He maybe needed to warn his Captain about his resting murder face. He wondered if there was a genetic component to looming threateningly, and had to suppress a giggle. There was a distinct possibility he'd had too much DayQuil.

"Rex, love, you're -" Harry tried again.

"Y Ddraig Goch!" Rex raised her voice. "Nawr!"

They heard footsteps in the hall again (and Nick's mental meanderings thought that Footsteps in the Hall would be a good indie-rock group name) and Nick watched Harry sigh and try to push past Rex again. She might as well have been pushing at a wall.

"Honestly, Regina, if this is some kind of _drill_ , I'll be most..." The Captain turned to face the woman entering the office. "Bugger."

The tension in the room reached epic levels. Nick wished he had some popcorn, since for once he could just watch. And he was so going to bug Monroe about Wesen from the UK, because the women (Rex and...Thrai?, his brain supplied) kept flickering to something _weird_ with _antlers_. Or he was hallucinating. He could have been; he'd never reacted all that well to DayQuil.

Harry broke the tense silence by elbowing Rex hard and stepping around her while she got her breath back.

"Yes, because _Sean_ is the most likely member of the family to kill me on behalf of Eric." Her voice was tight. "Everyone get your hands out in front of you. Right now."

There was some slightly embarrassed shuffling as hands came off service weapons or out from behind backs. Sheepishly, Rex set the letter opener down at Harry's glare.

"I went to your funeral." Renard replied flatly.

Harry winced.

"I know, and I'm sorry. There wasn't any other way; you know what Eric's like."

Suddenly, everything made a lot more sense to Nick. Also, Eric was a huge dick.

"You could have come to me."

"No, Sean. I couldn't put you in that position. Victoire is dead. She died ten years ago, and it was for the best. But...if I'd known it was you here, I would have let you know. Look, come back later, you can yell as much as you like. Right now, you need to get your detective to the doctor."

With Harry directing, Nick found himself bundled into his outerwear and then hustled into Renard's SUV. He looked over at the older man as he climbed in and buckled up.

"That," he started. "Was a deeply weird morning."

The tea had apparently helped a little with the cough, since he could get a whole sentence out.

"Victoire was the daughter of a family friend." Renard explained shortly, pulling out into traffic. "We thought she died during a raid on her coming out party. It took down a good bit of one of Eric's less legal endeavors."

"They had a _party_?" Nick muttered, confused and half asleep.

"Debut, Nick." Sean's lips quirked into a smile despite himself. "Why don't you try to sleep? I'll wake you up when we're there."

"Mmm," Nick murmured, already mostly asleep.

Sean took a few deep breaths once Nick had dropped off, forcing himself to calm down. He had to prioritize. Sick Grimm first, expressing his extreme displeasure with supposedly-dead people later. Sometimes, he _really_ hated his family.  



	2. Chapter 2

Renard parked and looked over at his detective. Nick had finally succumbed to exhaustion and slumbered in the passenger seat, snoring and wheezing from the congestion. He hated waking the younger man; heaven only knew how little sleep Nick got by on on a regular basis. As much as he disliked disrupting such peaceful, if noisy, slumber, he had to get Nick into his appointment.  
  
"Nick," he called quietly. "Nick, you need to wake up."  
  
Nick groaned pitifully and cracked his eyes open.  
  
"That's it." Renard coaxed, the tone alien to him. "We need to get you inside."  
  
"Mmmmph." Nick replied, blinking at him and trying to sit up.  
  
As if on cue, Monroe knocked on the passenger window.  
  
"You called 'im?" Nick croaked.  
  
"Blame...Harry. She's genetically incapable of not meddling, apparently." Renard reached over Nick and opened the door. "Hello Monroe."  
  
"Hey si...mil...Captain." Monroe coughed to cover his nervous stuttering and turned to Nick. Nick was safe ground. "Ooh, someone is sick. Come on, you."  
  
Nick about slithered out of the SUV and into Monroe's bracing arms.  
  
"He has plenty of sick time; make sure he stays home until he's better this time." Renard ordered, locking eyes with Monroe.  
  
"Yes, sir. I'll make sure." Monroe promised, shifting Nick so that he was propped against a shoulder. "Thank you for taking care of him."  
  
"If you need anything, and I mean anything, just call."  
  
"Will do. Thanks again." Monroe rubbed Nick's back and backed them up a few steps while Renard pulled away from the curb. "Ooh, that could have been less awkward.  
  
"Mmm, handsome." Nick patted his face vaguely.  
  
"What the hell did they give you?" Monroe asked sharply.  
  
"Not Harry's fault. DayQuil. Is a thing of orange evil." Nick muttered as Monroe manhandled him into the doctor's office.  
  
***********  
  
"Pneumonia, honestly." Monroe scolded gently as he changed his pliant boy into pajamas. "I knew you went back to soon."  
  
The accompanying swat before flannels covered Nick's bottom was more of a pat than anything, but it had Nick flushing miserably.  
  
"M'sorry," Nick's lip wobbled. "Didn't mean to."  
  
"Hey, hey, no. No tears, lebkuchen. I'm not angry." Monroe soothed, pulling Nick into a firm hug. He could only indulge in the more saccharine pet names with sick Nick.  
  
He sat Nick down again and pulled one of his own washed-soft long-sleeve tees over his boy's head and threaded his arms through the sleeves. He'd made sure to give Nick the 'don't help' order, or he would have had a tangled and upset Grimm on his hands. That done, he finger-combed Nick's hair back into place and picked up a cool, damp washcloth. Nick hummed contentedly as Monroe wiped his fever-flushed face.  
  
"I'm going to go down and get you some tea and water, and something to eat. When I'm back up, we'll curl up and put on something mindless." Monroe tucked Nick firmly under the covers and kissed his forehead. He didn't usually approve of TV in the bedroom, but he made an exception for sick mates.  
  
Monroe hurried downstairs and prepped a tray quickly. He'd had everything just about ready, something that morning telling him that Nick would want soup.  
  
Nick managed a smile when Monroe bustled in; he appreciated the fluids and food, but he mostly wanted cuddles. As soon as Monroe settled himself in bed, the tray on one of the bedside tables, Nick scooted over and curled around him. He really wanted Juliette too, but she had to work and he didn't want to be greedy. She'd already missed a lot with the bronchitis. Monroe pulled Nick around to sit fully in his lap and reached for the heavy mug he'd filled with soup. He'd pureed it, not wanting to bother Nick's throat more than necessary, so it was easy to sip. Nick wrapped his hands around the mug, soaking in the heat from the soup as Monroe found something on TV. Monroe stopped on an animal documentary, something cute and fuzzy and uncomplicated, and wrapped his hands around Nick's, helping him sip at the soup. He coaxed his sick boy into drinking most of the mug before Nick balked.  
  
"I'm full, Monroe."  
  
He accepted that; it was more than Nick had eaten at one time in a few weeks. He set the mug down and cuddled Nick close, rubbing a hand up and down his back. Nick rubbed his cheek against Monroe's flannel shirt as his eyes drifted shut on rambunctious puppies.  
  
Not much later, Juliette tiptoed into the bedroom to find Monroe still watching puppies with Nick asleep in his lap. She'd changed into pajamas downstairs, not wanting to risk waking Nick, so she crawled in on the other side and commandeered the remote.  
  
"Sorry it took me so long; I got that vegan jello stuff he likes." She whispered as she flipped over to a <i>Say Yes to the Dress</i> marathon.  
  
"You went all the way across town?" Monroe raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I wasn't going to bring regular jello into our house. I'm pretty sure that's a divorce waiting to happen." Juliette grinned at him. "And I had the car today."  
  
"Hmph." Monroe registered his disapproval at the running around when she was hardly over bronchitis, but he appreciated the thought. "Thank you."  
  
Juliette cuddled up against him, pulling Nick's legs over hers, before she pulled the duvet up further. "He'll sleep for a while?"  
  
"Mmm, he just fell asleep about fifteen minutes ago. He should be out for the night, I hope."  
  
"Good," Juliette tucked the remote next to her leg. "There's the overbearing mothers next."  
  
Monroe grinned back at her. "Gotta love an overbearing mother. Do you want tea? I don't think Nick will drink it before it goes cold."  
  
Juliette eagerly accepted the mug and Monroe suppressed a smug grin. One mate sleeping and one Juliette drinking the special blend he had for immune system/respiratory support. He'd done his job.


End file.
